As the Weeping Angels Dance
by Majesta Moniet
Summary: Clary's an angel. She's an angel, and if Jace can't keep her here with him, then he'll simply have to spread his wings. Warning: character death.


Disclaimer: I do not own The Mortal Instruments, and I do not profit from the use of its content.

As the Weeping Angels Dance

"Jace."

Nothing.

"Jace, look at me."

Alec grabs the front of his blood and ichor-soaked Shadowhunter gear and shakes him. Wide golden eyes snap to meet cobalt blue.

"Jace, you need to keep it together," he grounds out lowly. The door to their right swings open as Jocelyn hurries in, and momentarily the eerie blue light from inside washes over them in sharp relief.

Jace looks in longingly, and Alec has to press him into the wall to keep him from bolting. "Clary…"

"She's going to be fine." He's not sure if that's a lie, so he quickly follows it with something he knows is a truth. "Magnus is doing everything he can for her."

Jace's blonde head slowly swings back to face him. His eyes, tight with pain, drill Alec to the core. "She's going to die."

A quiet whimper comes from Isabelle, who's leaning against the opposite wall, arms wrapped around herself, tears trailing down her dirt-streaked face. "Shut up, Jace," she croaks. "You don't know that."

Jace doesn't even look at her. His eyes are boring into Alec with the weighty intensity of a man pleading for the life of his lover. He's begging him to let her live. To set everything right. To make this nightmare end.

And Alec wishes that he could. He wishes he could give Jace everything's he's asking for. He wishes he could take Clary's place just so that Jace will stop looking at him like that. But he can't. And it kills him.

Jace sees the apology on his face as if it's been written there with a stele, seared with undeniable permanence. That's when the light leaves Jace's eyes. They turn blank and dead, and he slumps boneless against the wall, head rolling forward. He'd fall if it weren't for Alec's vice-like grip on his shirt.

An eerie silence settles over the hall that even Isabelle's quiet crying can't quite break. Blue light continues to seep out from beneath the door, and no one can bring themselves to move.

Jace's quiet, far-off voice is a fine crystal vase dropped carelessly on the stone floor. "You know what the last thing I said to her was?"

Their silence is discouraging.

"I told her that the world doesn't revolve her. She wanted to sit down and set a date and place for the wedding, and I…I told her that I had more important things to do."

"Jace, don't. She's not—"

"That was the last thing I said to her." He swallows, continues to stare at a spot just over Alec's shoulder. "If I had just…If I had just, she…"

A new tension enters Jace's shoulders, and Alec knows—knows like he knows his heart is thundering in a mockery of life inside his chest—that Jace is picturing the scene they came across less than an hour ago. Four chifren demons, Clary caught amongst them, a shining seraph blade drawn. One lunged, and she blocked, pushed it backward. But the other three were waiting for it. She turned to confront one, but another…thrust its thorn-tipped fist into her stomach and out through her back in the blink of an eye.

He can still hear Jace's scream.

By the time they got her to the institute, to Magnus, she was already slipping away in Jace's arms.

Alec closes his eyes and forces himself to refocus. There's still a chance. He's seen Jace and Clary do incredible things, survive incredible things. There's still a chance. There has to be because if Clary doesn't survive this, neither will Jace, and Alec can't stand to lose another brother.

An indefinite amount of time passes before the door slowly swings open. Jace doesn't look up from the ground to watch Maryse, Robert, and eventually Magnus file from the room. Maryse sweeps down the hall at a near run, her husband trailing more slowly behind, stopping to fix each of his three children with a heavy stare.

Alec recognizes the look in his father's eyes.

But before the grief truly gets a chance to settle and stake its claim in his chest, Luke appears in the doorway. He's solemn, and broken, and red-eyed, and he looks at Jace. "Come on."

Then he ghosts back inside.

It's difficult for Alex to release his hold on Jace, but he does. And for several seconds, Jace sways precariously on his feet before stumbling to the door and with painful slowness, making his way in. The door shuts with a quiet 'click' behind him.

* * *

It takes a moment for Jace to adjust to the darkness. But once he has, all he can see is Clary and her pale skin and softly moving lips. For a moment, hope swells because Clary is _alive_, and then Luke's gravely, low voice filters into his awareness.

"…did everything that he can for her. She's comfortable and mostly coherent, but it probably won't be much longer…"

And Jace is moving towards the bed, each step costing him a piece of his heart. He collapses on to the stool there, grasps Clary's cool, tiny hand in between his large, warm ones. He sees Jocelyn stand and move away but he doesn't really _notice._ All there is in the world is Clary.

Her green eyes are half-closed as if she's about to drift off, and Jace tightens his hold on her, anchoring her here with him.

"Jace." He thinks he could spend forever listening to her say his name.

"Clary." He's surprised by the clarity of his own voice—his chest feels tight and congested, crushing beneath the pressure of a shattering heart. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," is her sleepy reply. "I don't feel a thing."

His lips brush against her knuckles. "Good." He shifts closer, moving one hand to palm her face. "I've been thinking. About the wedding. I think we should do it sooner rather than later." The meager light in the room catches the gold band on her left hand, and he's struck by the stark contrast between the metal and her ashen skin.

A small smile turns up the corners of her lips. "Why the rush?" Her voice is so quiet, he can hardly hear it.

"I can't wait any longer."

Her smile grows. "Me either."

Something inside of Jace is shaking—later he will realize it's his will to live—and it's a battle to keep the trembling from his hands as he traces the tips of his fingers over the curve of her brow, the dip of her nose, and the bow of her lips. He loves these things, loves her.

"Come 'ere." The command is murmured but Jace is powerless against it; he gently pulls back the sheet and eases onto the bed next to her. With the carefulness of handling delicate china, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her to him till they're nearly nose-to-nose. For a moment, Jace just breathes. The scent of Clary is something he can never forget, and the familiarity of it comforts him in these last moments of his life.

Her breath fans out across his jaw with every exhale, and he can see the rise-and-fall of her chest slowing. She's leaving him.

"Clary." Her name is a half-sob on his lips, made bitter by the tears slipping from his eyes. "Tell me how to bring you back," he begs, voice hoarse, desperate with his need for her. "Tell me how you did it." He recalls how solitary and lonely death was. She doesn't deserve it. "You have to tell me."

She looks at him through drooping lashes; the spark he's always admired is fading. "Make a wish, Jace." Her breathing stutters. "You have to wish for what you want most."

A hand on either side of her face, he presses his forehead to hers, whispers, "I wish I could spend the rest of eternity with you in my arms."

Jace doesn't move, and even though he holds her as tightly as he can, three sluggish heartbeats later, Clary silently slips away from him.

* * *

That night, when Jace falls into bed after hours of crying and screaming and accusing, he feels the ache and knows that an essential part of him is missing. He feels the ache and willingly falls into the darkness that numbs him with utter consumption. He feels the ache and knows it won't be much longer.

That night, when Jace goes to sleep, he doesn't wake up.

* * *

**AN:** Thank you so much for reading. Honestly, I'm not really sure where this story came from. I've been contemplating writing TMI for a long time now and after starting several one-shots, this is the only one that's gotten finished. I'm considering writing a multi-chaptered TMI fic once I've finished my Twilight story "Zenith" over on LJ, so we'll see where that goes. I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this piece!


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